Rotherham(i)
11 It thrust forth its branches as far as the sea,––And, unto the River, its shoots.
12 Wherefore hast thou broken down its fences, So that all who pass along the way, pluck its fruit?
13 The boar out of the forest, browseth upon it, And, the wild beast of the field, pastureth thereon.
14 O God of hosts, return, we pray thee,––Look down out of the heavens, and see, And inspect this vine:
15 Yea the stock which thy right hand planted, Even upon the son thou didst secure for thyself.
16 To be burned with fire, it is cut down,––At the rebuke of thy countenance, they will perish.